Therapy
by Bazylia de Grean
Summary: Torment series, nr 7. Jedi Master Dooku had a very unpleasant day, and is in desperate need to relax. And what's a better way to do so than infuriating knight Ilya Bassel?


I don't own Dooku (unfortunately...) and the Star Wars empire belongs to George Lucas. I just use them for some non-profit fun having.

Ilya Bassel and Keey Spani, though, are my insane creations.

(For those of you who follow The Torment Series: the story takes place between _Scheming_ and _A Tunic_.)

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**Therapy**

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Knock. Knock.

_Damn_. Ilya Bassel put away "The Legends of the Sith Lords" she had been reading and waited.

Knock! Knock!

"Coming!" She stood up and slowly trailed towards the door, on the way putting her Jedi robe over the nightgown. "What the deuce?" Ilya opened and froze. Deuce, indeed. "Dooku? What on stars are you doing here? And at this hour?"

Jedi Master Yan Dooku graced Ilya's creased robe with a fleeting glance, her annoyed face – with another glance, less fleeting, then he simply shoved Ilya away and entered.

"May I?"

"A bit too late for such a question, don't you think so?" Ilya crossed her hands on her chest and took a characteristic stance, suggesting that were she not a Jedi knight, she would stomp her foot.

"You can always throw me out, can't you?" probably to prove the thesis, Dooku came in further and with his usual elegance settled down on the sofa. He raised the book to check the cover. "Well, well. Naughty girl."

"Dooku, you know what?"

"What?"

"Bugger off. Dooku the lawful paladin, who would have thought... You think I don't know what you're doing in the Archives in the evenings?"

"I am doing something in the Archives in the evenings?"

Ilya was shifting from annoyed to seriously irritated.

"First of all: get off my sofa. _Now_. Second: it's not your blasted business what I'm reading. Third-..."

"Hush. Irritation does not good to beauty. Or so they say." Dooku smiled innocently. "First of all, my dear, no, I can't get off your sofa."

"I'm not 'your dear'. And why can't you get off?"

Dooku offered Ilya his most charming smile. "I am too comfortable here."

Ilya stomped her foot. „What on stars you think you're doing here? May you graciously grant me and answer to this question?"

"Yes, I may. I have spent the whole day helping in the laboratory. Under Keey's command. And to think something was telling me from the beginning I should not argue with Yoda this time… I'll be dreaming of that pink-striped lab-coat for weeks, Keey must have dyed it especially for me… That is why I have to, oh, get my psyche some rest and relax."

"Why did it sound like 'I need a victim to torment'?"

"No, really? No idea why it would." The malicious gleam in Dooku's eyes, contrary to his utterly innocent smile, was suggesting he knew exactly why.

"_Dooku_…" Ilya voice was verging on a hiss.

"And Keey gave me a lecture on breeding of animals for the Temple gardens, hedgehogs, particularly, and don't even ask about details…"

"Dooku! I _don't_ want to hear _anything_ about it _at all_! And neither about you pink-striped lab-coat!..." Ilya's brain got stuck for a moment, to relish in the colourful vision in peace, and found it excellent. "Actually..." Ilya smiled lazily, then, in lack of free space on the sofa, perched at the verge of a little table. "Actually, you can tell me some more of that lab-coat. Those pink stripes in particular are fascinating me."

"You have some ill fascinations-... Wait a moment. You are making fun of me?" Dooku accusingly pointed a finger at Ilya. "After all that, I need a therapy!"

"Yees, for once I agree with you…"

"Ilya!"

Ilya got up and paced to the sofa, going to use one of those rare and precious moments of her life she could look down on Dooku.

"You push into my quarters uninvited, you take my place on my own sofa, you're telling me of problems I, imagine, have no interest in. You _do need_ a therapy. I can sign you in under a false name, if you're ashamed of it." Ilya smiled maliciously.

„_Ilya…_"

Maybe it would have come to a fight, it not for a-…

"A spideeer!" Ilya jumped away suddenly, with a loud cry of fear, pointing at the air before her; indeed, there was rather a huge spider, hanging down from the ceiling. "Dooku, do something with it!"

"Why do you think I should?" asked Dooku aloofly, trying to hide the fact he was attempting to snuggle closer into the sofa.

"Be of some use if you're here anyway!"

"Hunt it down yourself." Dooku discreetly threw a worried glance at the spider.

Ilya froze for a moment, amazed. Then burst into laughter.

"I fail to see what's so funny," complained the Jedi Master, from the sofa.

"Dooku, you-… ha-ha-… You're-… oh, I can't -… ha-ha-… You're afraid of spiders?" Whatever else Ilya wanted to say was lost in another burst of laughter. Ilya laughed so hard she almost doubled down, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Dooku hid his face in his hands, presenting a classic facepalm. "Force, what have I done to deserve this?"

"You've been tormenting me!" Ilya regained some seriousness, and most of her usual vertical posture.

"But have I been tormenting you _that_ much?" asked Dooku miserably.

Ilya raised her eyebrows. "You think I'll now voice my compassion and sympathy for you, because life has been so cruel to poor Master Dooku, and maybe that I'll then stroke you poor tired head?"

Dooku moved one hand away from his face. "Would you? I mean, the stroking part." One visible dark-brown eyes was watching Ilya with a shade of disgust.

"No, thanks. I don't have enough soap to wash my hands properly after it." Ilya remembered there was a spider problem and used the Force to open the door and throw the arachnid out. "This is the moment you are leaving."

"Surely you don't think I'll go out there where that spider is?" Dooku decided admitting to his little phobia would be a lesser evil than being in one corridor with such a monster, even if the corridor was over twenty metres long, and only the spider had valid reasons for fear.

"Yes, I do." Ilya grabbed the front of Dooku's robe and, using both the Force and surprise, somehow managed to raise Dooku off the sofa. "Direction: door."

Dooku did not move, only glanced irritably at Ilya's hand, still clutching his robe.

"Dooku, should I give you a map? A compass? Satellite navigation?"

The Jedi Master ostentatiously pushed Ilya's hand away from his robe.

"No, thank you. I'll use the shadows and moss on the trees to find direction."

"Then go find it."

Dooku theatrically turned away and strode towards the door, his pace so aristocratic it would suit no-one less than a mortally offended lord. Ilya went behind him, to make sure he would not return anytime soon, or, worse, change his mind about leaving.

"Goodbye," Dooku announced icily, halting for a moment at the bar.

"Yes, yes, it was very nice to talk, bye. Remember about your therapy." Ilya lightly shoved Dooku, intending to push him out of her chambers.

Before she managed to close the door behind him she noticed Dooku was back inside, and, in addition, that his face was suspiciously close. She had no time for more detailed reconnaissance because Dooku suddenly pulled her to him and kissed her. It took Ilya quite some time to decide she was suffering from some nervous system or consciousness problems, because _that_ _absolutely should not_ be pleasant (for Force's sake, with _Dooku_?), she pulled away from Dooku and attempted to slap him across the cheek. But before her hand collided with the Jedi Master's face, he managed to catch her hand. She was no more lucky with her other hand.

Ilya looked up at Dooku resentfully.

"Better let go of me. Now."

"Why should I?"

Ilya meaningfully glanced down. "I still can make use of my knees."

Dooku quickly compared possible gains and losses, and let go.

"What was supposed to be?"

"It's called kis-..."

"I know how it's called. I want to know what are you up to now."

"Now? Oh, nothing." Dooku grinned with satisfaction. "But the knowledge I'm not the only irritated person today considerably rises my morale. You yourself told me to remember about my therapy, didn't you?"

Ilya concluded a facepalm would not be enough, so she turned to the wall and rested her forehead against it.

"The door. Right over here."

"Don't worry, I am leaving right now."

Even without looking at Dooku Ilya knew he was still grinning.

"Dooku, I hate you."

"Better don't say such things. Maybe you've not read enough books, but everyone knows how such stores end."

"I've never suspected you of reading cheap love stories."

"_Bassel…_"

"What?"

"I hate you."

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_Author's note:_

Inspiried by a variety of thigns, a talk with my friend Kaja and some movie-world trivia found on IMDB.

I simply love writing their talks, they kind of write themselves and always flow very smoothly from my keyboard. And, knowing this series is maybe a bit silly, I still immensely enjoy writing it :3

...

**_The Torment Series _**_chronology__:_

stories featuring Dooku as...

...a Jedi: 1) Scheming; 2) Therapy; 3) A Tunic

...a Sith: 4) Confusion; 5) Special Delivery; 6) The Game; 7) A Guest

Enjoy :)


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